The Golden Circuit
October 12, 1904 The rain in London does not wash things clean; it only makes the grime slicker. I am thirty-two years old, and I have spent the last decade calculating the probability of my own mediocrity. At the Meridian Insurance Exchange, I am a junior actuary, a functionary of numbers, a man who knows the weight of a life in pounds and shillings but not in flesh. I want the promotion. I...
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